


inertia

by prettyshiroic (kcgane)



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Dissociation, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, Identity, Implied Sheith, Introspection, M/M, Pain, Paranoia, Self-Doubt, Tension, i was told to tag this as that by friend so lmao oKAY, it's more implicit tbh, set somewhere between S3-4, this is heavy angst yo im sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-13
Updated: 2017-09-13
Packaged: 2018-12-27 08:17:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,926
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12077184
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kcgane/pseuds/prettyshiroic
Summary: “Do you trust me?”The question seemed to evoke something in Shiro, who returned the smile. It was glassy, fragile and breakable. But it was there. Until it wasn’t. Until a glance so undeniably uncharacteristically calculated slipped into the mix. Eyes froze over. Lips hardened. Keith caught it just in time, but it still wasn’t enough to prepare him for the response.“As much as you trust me.”--Keith had always felt it. Instinct. Raw instinct. He felt it deep in his gut. Sometimes it burned uncomfortably, a sharp pressing heat that pulsated through his veins and refused to let go until he acknowledged and accepted its presence. Hot like the desert sun, relentless and leaving nowhere to hide. Use it. Trust it.  Work with it, not against it. No matter what.





	inertia

**Author's Note:**

  * For [flusteredkeith](https://archiveofourown.org/users/flusteredkeith/gifts).



> Happy belated birthday Justine, hope you enjoy this wild ride. I was thinking about something that could serve as an antithesis to 'as many times as it takes' and this began... 
> 
> Warnings are in tags - please be careful. This is quite a heavy exploration of themes. No nsfw but rated M for that reason!

He shouldn’t be doing this.

But the inane desire, the desperation to get answers was at the forefront of his mind. There was something offset about this entire thing. Since Shiro had come back. Keith had been trying to tiptoe around the minefields, stumble over the craters. It was an obstacle course he could hardly cope with when he was already jumping a hundred other hoops in his new role. Piloting the black lion. Shiro's lion. Using the black bayard.  _Shiro's bayard._

“Hey,” Keith started, lips pursed and tension knotting uncomfortably in his stomach.

Something wasn’t right. If anything, at the very least as _leader_ he should be trying to figure it out. It wasn’t the incentive that had him resolved to do this, but it was enough to push him forwards. Enough to char this course. Shiro had turned his attention over to Keith, eyebrow raised. Keith couldn’t say how long Shiro had been that way. He'd made the mistake of losing focus. Reigning it back was paramount. Because letting this stretch any longer would allow the rare hesitation crawling into the corners of his mind a chance to _grow_. Clearing his throat, Keith continued.

“Remember that roadtrip we took? Just before I joined the garrison?” He laughed. It was sharp, it cut jagged lines into each word. Averting his gaze, as if recalling a memory, Keith felt his lips twitch on a smile that curled in all the wrong places. _He_ _shouldn’t be doing this. He shouldn’t he should -_ “You got us lost so many times on the way to that stupid lake.”

There was a slight twitch as Shiro processed the words. Smoothing over the curious glitch, he responded promptly.

“Ha, yeah.”

Shiro gave a laugh of his own, then. In comparison it was rounded, softer. A sheepish, embarrassed expression spread over his face. But Keith could only find it _chilling_ rather than endearing, eyes blown wide and jaw clenched. A hand came up to his shoulder and squeezed. The pressure wasn’t grounding, it was dizzying. 

“But I knew I could count on you to get us where we needed to be. You’re good at that.”

“Yeah.”

“You should sleep now. It’s late,” Shiro offered, finally removing his hand. Keith felt better for it, which he felt _worse_ for.

“Yeah.” So apparently, _yeah_  was all Keith could say. Arms folded, he nodded and spun away from Shiro.

He could feel Shiro’s eyes following him. Whatever look he was giving him, Keith couldn’t bring himself to find out.

Because there had been no trip.

Keith may have been the one to start this, lay the foundations for his own discreet test, but Shiro went along with it seamlessly.  _Why did he do that? Why would he do that?_

Lying wasn’t something Keith took pleasure in doing. Nor was it something he actively strived to do. Most notably because he _couldn’t._ Keith had never been stoic. Not in the sense of holding back his emotions or being able to school his expressions. His body language was remarkably open and readable once clocked into. The pursing of lips. The twitch of eyebrows. The clench of a fist. The folding of arms. The shallow quick breaths. The burning unyielding intensity of it _all_ nestled in his eyes.

Even so, back on earth nobody ever looked close enough or cared much to ascertain this. It was a rarity if somebody ever interpreted his feelings correctly. Angry. Reckless. Difficult. Trouble. Cold. Hostile. So many words, so many _presumptions_ tossed his way. Keith had grown too tired to challenge it. But that didn’t mean he accepted it. He knew what he stood for, what he was about. Surely that was enough.

So no, despite having a fair chance at succeeding in lying despite being a _terrible liar,_ he didn’t. Keith didn’t lie unless it was a matter of getting food on the rickety makeshift table in the shack or being famished under the scorching sun. Fortunately, that had been less than a handful of times. But that wasn’t to say the other methods in which he’d secured food and survival in hard times were any better.

Still, _lying felt counter-intuitive_. There seemed little point in skewing information, twisting the facts to serve an agenda. Surely that was lying to everyone including yourself. Truth was what Keith embraced entirely, what he wished to obtain in any situation. But sometimes, admittedly, the truth wasn’t so easy to obtain. Sometimes, the answers were hidden and burrowed beneath a series of things he would never actively seek to unravel or pursue.

The truth _mattered_ , though.

Having the truth mattered.

And if he had to _lie_ to get it, then honestly so be it. Keith didn’t _like_ the idea, but he didn’t like a lot of the things the universe had pushed him to do.

Ultimately, he didn’t like the things it had done to Shiro. He didn’t like the way things were going with the team. He didn’t like _a lot_ of things right now.

He didn't like that if he said he was glad Shiro was back it would be with immeasurable shame and disgust that plagued his nights he’d have to accept it was a _half-truth_. Not quite a lie, but not quite as straight-forward as it seemed. Half-truths were worse than lies, after all. They were built on the foundations of something genuine, and then distorted.  

That was why he made up the trip.

That was why he had to lie.

Because he needed to find the truth.

\--

**I. Every object persists in its state of rest or uniform motion in a straight line unless it is compelled to change that state by forces impressed on it.**

\--

Keith had always felt it. Instinct. Raw instinct. He felt it deep in his gut. Sometimes it burned uncomfortably, a sharp pressing heat that pulsated through his veins and refused to let go until he acknowledged and _accepted_ its presence. Hot like the desert sun, relentless and leaving nowhere to hide. Use it. _Trust it._  Work with it, not against it. No matter what. 

Other times it was the dull kind of embers that never quite die. A fire that never built up to consume, though _consistent_ in its consistency. A little less calculated than genuine intrigue, a little more fiery and illogical than curiosity but _just as present._ It stewed behind his eyes, laced itself into the questions he asked the team, and nestled between his ribs. Pushed his heart faster. Stole the breath from his lungs. But Keith knew. He had always known. Use it. _Trust it._ Work with it, not against it.

It was a feeling that couldn’t be explained or determined _precisely;_ the way he told the others to _shut up and trust him_ before executing a manoeuvre. A fluency in movements, one that came not only with skill but with embracing everything this instinct is telling him. It was in the sheer momentum he propelled himself forwards with his blade. An instinct that took hold and seized him, told him that it was fight or flight. Live or die. Use it. _Trust it._ Work with it, not against it.

And when it surged to the forefront, it came to his attention each and every time he needed it to. Without fail. It told him - _reminded him_ \- that this was about survival. Fight or flight. Live or die.

Survival.

So the day it rose up like bile in his throat, in an overwhelming way he could hardly suppress and swallow down, it shook him to the core. A fist tightened by his side, jaw clenched. Barely able to keep himself upright with the magnitude of the tremors rocking through him, Keith accepted it. Acknowledged it. Ripple after ripple, the force didn’t let up. It grew and grew and then grew some more. The insistent probing, the blaring alarm in his head, the piercing urge to _do something._ Realisation that something wasn’t right - was it?

It couldn’t be right. It _wasn’t right._ But the team were just sat there. Lance was goofing around and inducing smiles amongst the team, in particular Hunk who nudged him playfully. Then there was Pidge, tinkering away at something whilst grinning at the words. Keith was leaning against the wall, his only hope at keeping himself steady at this point. Because deep down he knew. He knew what it meant.

Nothing spectacular was going on. The scene was normal. Their usual. Waiting to eat and celebrate their success today over some food. Pidge made a small remark over to Lance. Lance’s eyebrows creased. Hunk smiled, the big and wide kind. Keith remained in the corner, didn’t mind being there. He didn’t chip in unless addressed or expected to. Now Keith wanted nothing more than to be ignored, because it was getting hard to think above the haze of adrenaline. He was bordering a rare kind of panic - the kind he had only felt twice: once, back on earth and once running towards an empty black lion.

Everything became heightened. The slightest shift in the team compelled him to move. The creaking of the castleship they quickly got used to whilst moving through space no longer groaned. The noise was loud. Screaming. Screaming at Keith to use it. _Trust it._ Work with it, not against it.

His instincts were never wrong. At least, they had never been wrong before.

And his instincts said something was wrong. Very, very wrong. Enough for Keith to push himself from the wall. The motion was a little too chaotic, he moved too fast. The scene was disrupted, blurring vision and focus splintering. Eyes scanned the group once more, searching for the anomaly. Looking for what was wrong, _what was it where was it how could this-_

Then, Keith felt it. A strong immeasurable tug. An energy he could no longer ignore. And it was spewing rapidly from one direction. The door. Lunging forwards, Keith made his way to it. Heart racing. Blood pumping. Head pounding. He had the team’s attention. Didn’t want their attention. Wanted to be alone. Face this without prying eyes and exposure. Pidge stood.

“Where are _you_ going so fast?”

“Uh… Keith?”

Eyes fixed on the door, Keith pushed aside the concerns of the others. He had to get to that door. Confront this. _Stop this._

“Keith, buddy…? You’re acting kinda weird.”

Then the door opened. Keith came to a standstill. Eyes wide and body locked into place. Caught in the headlights of something that shouldn’t be happening. No. Why this, _why_ **_him_ ** _why always-_

Shiro was the anomaly.  

The worst part was, Keith wasn’t even surprised.

“Keith,” Shiro said with a frown in the doorway. As he stepped inside Keith found himself taking not one but two steps back. Out of instinct. He was ashamed to have indulged it, even involuntarily. The minuscule flash of hurt in Shiro’s eyes spoke volumes. Despite that, Shiro continued as unfazed as possible. “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah. Sorry,” Keith averted his gaze, noticing the others had caught up to stand behind him. “Just feeling a little restless. I’m fine.”

 _He was not fine._ His tone was dismissive, imploring nobody to probe or push into it further. There was an instability about it all, the centre of his composure collapsing in on itself. Fortunately in that moment, Lance’s stomach broke the silence. Food, right.

As they walked, Shiro remained by his side. Concerned. Attentive. They didn’t speak, but that was preferred. With each step, Keith attempted to let go of the feeling. Let go of _all this._ Drop the caution and unease. This was _Shiro._ And this, whatever he was experiencing, was _too far._ It had to stop. 

None of this was instinct.

It was paranoia. Unreliable. Built on his fear of losing Shiro, his unspoken insecurities. Loss. Failure. Pathways that led the way to nothing but crumbling foundations. Foundations he and Shiro had etched into the stars themselves. It didn’t belong here. It  _never_ belonged here.

He would crush this feeling with his bare palms if he had to.

“Keith, what Lake was it we went to again?”

Keith winced, biting his lip hard.

“Can’t remember.”

Nothing was taking Shiro away from him again.

Even himself and his stupid _ridiculous_ feelings. Not instincts. 

Shiro was back. Everything was fine. There didn’t always have to be a problem. There wasn’t always something to fight. Maybe sometimes things were exactly what they seemed. Maybe Shiro had changed a little whilst being away.

Hadn’t they all in some ways?

\--

 _Move move move!_ Keith dived out the way. Barely. Three seconds later and he could’ve lost this thing. But there was hardly any time to register that. As he spun round, instead of meeting concerned eyes he met unyielding ones. Summoning his shield, Keith blocked the next hit. Upper hand. For a second. And the next one was blocked. Swerve. Kick forwards that pushed the opponent back. But not for long. Parries were deflected. Metal meeting metal. Clasping the blade tighter, Keith narrowed his eyes. _Come on come on._ He swung to the left. Not with his sword, with his foot.

“Nice try,” Shiro smirked.

In one swift motion, he slung Keith over his shoulders and had them both on the floor. The breath was knocked from Keith’s lungs as they fell. _Damn it._ Keith wiggled his way out of the grip. _Tried to_ anyway. Glancing up at Shiro, he replayed their sparring match in his head. It had been there. He'd actively done everything he could to pretend it wasn't there but _it was still there._ An instinct. Or something like that. Things hadn't felt right. The eyes. The sheer intensity of the fight. Or perhaps the unspeakable unfamiliarity that had crept its way between them. Despite their proximity, it felt like entire galaxies were wedged between them. Keith couldn’t place _how_ or _why_ this was. It just was. 

“Your form is different.” The words toppled out of Keith before he could stop himself. That wasn’t what he had meant to say at all.

“Different how?” Shiro drew back to sit cross-legged beside him, waiting for the explanation.

Sitting up, Keith shrugged. It was silly. He shouldn’t have said it. That could be said about _anyone here._ They were learning all the time. If fight patterns remained the same then that would be an issue. Leave them vulnerable. Predictability was not something team Voltron needed in their name. Keith’s training regimen assured everyone acquired some different techniques, studied each other with Pidge’s reference notes and apply that. Still, it didn’t explain _this._

“It’s…” Keith started, scrambling for something to put together convincingly. “I just mean it’s been a while since we did this, is all.”

“It has.” Shiro sounded sad, dispelling the tensions from Keith almost immediately. Looking up, Shiro smiled with reluctance. He was a little unsure about how to proceed also, apparently. “It was nice to do it again. Sorry if I went too hard.”

There was a challenge in there. A near imperceptible twitch in his lips. Once again it was different, just like his form. But Keith refused to let it be different, refused to acknowledge it. Because he’d missed this. So much. And he’d almost let himself believe it had disappeared forever. Every moment he had with Shiro was precious, _treasured._ Squandering the seconds for a _hunch_ that made no sense was ungrateful. Selfish.

“Not at all.” Standing, Keith raised an eyebrow. He could take the hint. “I’m ready to go again if you are.”

Shiro chuckled, hauling himself up. It wasn’t forced, but it felt awkward. Like it was their first sparring match at the garrison. Through time they were moving backwards rather than forwards. Stumbling into the past, embracing it, Keith watched Shiro steel himself to follow. For now, maybe that was for the best. The past hurt. But not all of it. Nothing like the present. 

“You’re on.”

\--

The strength of Keith's will to _ignore_ the budding unease turned out to be weaker than expected. Figured. His conviction wasn't so unyielding after all. Each day came and went, and with it Keith found himself fighting a battle on multiple fronts. Fighting the team to justify his decisions, fighting the _Galra Empire_ to stop Lotor - and fighting himself against the awful impending feeling that _something was wrong with Shiro_. That battle was the hardest to win. Some days he defeated it. Some days he didn't. Either way it didn't matter, because once it was done it just started all over again. Keith didn’t even want to partake in it, let the supposed _instincts_ take hold. It had all shifted into something understated and foreboding. Rationalising it was much harder when it lurked so uncomfortably _right there._

“That kiwi pie sounds good, Hunk.” Shiro’s voice pulled Keith back.

The words themselves had him frowning. Second guessing. Unsure. Uncertain. He was tired. God.  _So tired._ Training with Shiro had been getting more strenuous. Physically. Emotionally. They’d really pushed last night. Even after their small break, they went again. And then once more. Keith had insisted he was okay. Even when his shoulder was throbbing and muscles ached in the wrong kind of way. He had to figure out _what_ was off. 

He still hadn't. 

Eyes flickered carefully between Shiro and Hunk as the yellow paladin continued excitedly describing old favourite dishes from earth. Shiro lent back, relaxed and momentarily at ease in the conversation.

With a smile, Shiro set down the fork. “I’d love to try some if I ever had the chance.”

Blinking, Keith turned his full attention to Shiro. So he _was_ hearing right. No way. Shiro was just being diplomatic. He _had_ to be. But the smile on his face wasn’t the smile of someone trying to please another person. It was the kind that was shared with kindness and the encouragement Shiro always offered everyone besides himself.

It was hours later, in the hallway to his room that Keith spoke up.

“I... don’t think that’s a good idea. Trying Hunk’s kiwi pie, I mean.”

Pouting, Shiro came to a stop to consider the words.

“Why not?”

Blink. _Had he really heard that right?_

“You’re allergic to kiwi,” Keith clarified. He attempted to deliver the information casually with a shrug, but the gesture was far from light-hearted and easy to commit to. “That and a whole bunch of other exotic fruits.”

“Huh.” Raking a hand through his hair, Shiro chuckled. It was nervous and strained. Keith flinched at the sound. “It’s a good thing you remembered, or else I’d be in big trouble come the day Hunk makes something like that.”

“Well… we’re still in space,” Keith replied hastily, striving for something light-hearted and falling short miserably. Keeping the conversation moving, keeping _himself_ moving was crucial. He could _hear_ the dejected tone in there. Shiro was trying to play off his own feelings, make light of the situation. “The rate Lotor’s going, we got plenty of time before we come close to sitting here eating pie.”

That shifted the tension into something that should’ve been comforting. But it wasn’t. Keith couldn’t bask in it, and he couldn’t bring himself to pretend either. Shiro’s expression was gentle. _Of course it wa_ s. So why did it feel so unnerving?

“We’ll stop him, Keith.”

They had to. It was imperative. But it was hardly a _secret_ Lotor was at least three steps ahead of them.

“I mean it,” Shiro added. Evidently, he wasn’t convinced _Keith_ was convinced by the declaration. Glancing up reluctantly, Keith found grey eyes. They were stormy, in an unnatural way. “Keep building on what you’re learning, you’re doing a great job out here leading them.”

Pressing his eyes shut tight, Keith frowned. He was tired. It was the most tired he'd ever felt, heavy and unpleasant. 

"I don't think we should train together anymore." Pause. No excuse given, no _reason._ Keith didn't have one, not one that made sense or made this any easier. "Is that okay?"

Shiro didn't miss a beat. "Yeah, it's okay." 

Nodding weakly for lack of a response that wouldn’t betray him, Keith folded his arms. He stayed that way until Shiro left the scene, taking with him the warmth that didn’t quite belong there in the first place.

\--

**II. The alteration of motion is ever proportional to the motive force impressed; and is made in the direction of the right line in which that force is impressed.**

\--

Sometimes, Keith liked to practice fighting with his marmora blade. More often than not in private, when the others weren’t watching. Attuning himself fully to the black bayard and everything that came with piloting the black lion was enough of a strain. But spending some time swinging the Galra blade around on the training deck somehow lessened the weight. Unexpected catharsis came with each strike to the gladiator. Relief in the form of release. The slow unravelling kind that was bred from patience. And focus. _Patience yields focus._

He had felt prying eyes by the doorway, _recognised_ the feeling enough to know it was Shiro without looking over. Shiro remained partly concealed, tentative and clearly not wanting to overstep. Keith threw more of himself into the fight. It was a distraction rather than his main focus. Shiro never hesitated much before. Not like this. He’d chime in on how Keith could improve his stance or technique. Or he’d step fully into the room with pride gleaming in his eyes and fondly tell him ‘ _good work’._  

Right now however, it almost felt like a stranger was observing the fight from the sidelines. A stranger watching who was unsure how to proceed. Whether they _should._ A few more fierce lunges and parries rendered the gladiator out of action. As it fell to the ground, Keith wiped the sweat from his brow. The marmora blade shortened in his palms, retreating back to a smaller size he could tuck away. Turning it over in his hands, Keith stared wistfully down at it.

 _Knowledge or death_ , Kolivan had said. It still felt like there was much left to be uncovered. More questions asked than answered. As the gladiator on the floor whirred back into life, Keith’s gaze hardened. Shiro was still here. And he still hadn’t entered the room.

“End training sequence.”

Turning around to grab his towel, Keith strived for something light-hearted. Playful. But it was difficult to pull off. The towel slapped against his back with a thud that echoed in the quiet room. Shiro said nothing. Shiro _did_ nothing. So neither did Keith, besides reach for the juice pouch on the ground. Pushing the straw in, he sat on the floor. Usually Shiro would’ve joined him by now. Or at least, in the past. Usually was the wrong word. It didn’t fit anymore. He set the juice down with more force than intended, glaring down at the floor.

Everything about them felt unspeakably wrong. The gravity was stretching them towards different horizons. Different _purposes_ and destinies. Keith wanted to believe both of them were reaching back, pushing against it. But he wasn’t sure. Things were different. So different. There was distance now. A painful distance that people would tell you _just happened_ in life but Keith had never believed could’ve happened with this person. The most important person in his entire life. Blinking hard, Keith sighed.

“You can come in, you know.”

As he looked up to Shiro expectantly, the flare of frustration fizzled out. In its place was curiosity. Beneath that was pressing concern. Yeah. That tended to happen. Shiro’s expression caught him off guard, no matter the fact seconds had passed. Shiro’s eyes were wide, with shock. And he was completely fixed on the blade in Keith’s hands. Part of Keith felt inclined to tuck it away out of sight, he didn’t _usually_ have it on display, but he kept it on display. Shiro’s eyes followed it as he passed it into his other hand slowly. Calculatingly, _almost_.

Huh.  

“Your knife,” Shiro started as Keith inched closer carefully. His voice was devoid of anything Keith could begin to interpret. Emotions were stripped back and pushed back. It made him apprehensive. Hitching a breath, Keith waited as Shiro reached out. Fingers brushed across the blade, resting over the marmora symbol.

“I know that symbol…” Shiro breathed, retracting his hand.

It _probably_ was a good time to put the knife away now. So Keith did that with trembling hands. He almost _dropped_ the damn thing whilst processing what Shiro was saying. Because it sounded terribly like Shiro didn’t _know._ And that was impossible. Shiro was _there_ with him. The entire time. They went to the base together, they found the answers together, Keith took the _trial_ and Shiro had he really forgotten was it _-_

“ _Keith._ How long have you been keeping this to yourself?” Voice soft, Shiro stepped closer. Keith grit his teeth, unable to look. Maybe it was cowardly. Or maybe it was just survival. If he glanced up into those eyes right now, Keith wasn’t sure what he’d see. He couldn’t trust himself to make a judgement on _anything_ right now. Let alone about Shiro and _all of this._ Those unpleasant instincts he’d barely held at bay firmly squeezed their way up up and up.

“ _Let me help you_.”

Swelling in his throat. _Something was wrong._

“You don’t have to do this alone.”

Bursting in his lungs. Instinct.  _Shiro was the anomaly._

“We should go and speak to Kolivan.”

Trust this instinct. Work with it not against it. _Why have you been working against it all this time why are you pretending this isn’t happening why god_ **_why_ ** _is this happening how-_

“He might have some more information-”

“-Shiro, no! Stop just - _please,_ stop.” His voice was raspy, the words cracking as they sounded. Not a shout, nor a whisper. Just lingering somewhere between, hanging in a strange balance that _wasn’t_ balanced to begin with. “It - it’s okay. You don’t have to worry about this.”

“ _Keith,_ of course I do. You know what this means.”

Keith honestly wasn’t sure what was _worse_ : telling Shiro the truth or protecting him from it. Both situations would hurt. For different reasons. Keith couldn’t bring himself to do either. And maybe it was selfish, but it felt like the right decision for this moment. Shiro was exhausted, Shiro was pushed _they all were pushed_ but Shiro didn’t need to be dealing with another earth-shattering revelation. Not again. He wasn’t good at this, _I’m no good at this. You’re only thinking of yourself as usual!_ Exhaling sharply, Keith mustered a smile.

“Do you trust me?”

The question seemed to evoke something in Shiro, who returned the smile. It was glassy, fragile and breakable. But it was there. Until it wasn’t. Until a glance so undeniably _uncharacteristically_ calculated slipped into the mix. Eyes froze over. Lips hardened. Keith caught it just in time, but it still wasn’t enough to prepare him for the response. 

“As much as you trust me.”

 _Shoot._ Keith made haste to the door, not sparing a look back. It took him three seconds of the steadiest strides he could make to get there. Any faster would give it all away, how unnerved he was. How _offset_ he was. Any slower and Shiro might just catch up. Keith definitely didn’t want that. Not now. _God._

He didn’t stop walking. Even when he passed the door to his own room he didn’t stop walking. Keith kept walking. Even when Allura called out his name in bemusement as he passed her. Keith kept walking. The pace was like clockwork. A tempo he could tap into and slip into. But with each step, the words snuck in. They adapted to the rhythm. They wouldn’t leave.

_As much as you trust me._

Keith trusted Shiro. He had _always_ trusted Shiro. _You know I trust you, Shiro._ Even thinking otherwise was ridiculous. Painful in ways that clawed deeper into his skin and carved out a terrible realisation.

Keith trusted Shiro.

Just not enough.

\--

“You have to tell me Shiro,” Keith implored, maybe even _begged_. But nobody would hear besides Shiro as Keith stood there in the doorway. The light spilled from behind him. It wasn’t illuminating. Keith’s shadow was bigger than himself. Shiro was tucked into the darkness, eyes drifting up to acknowledge his unexpected guest.

Two sleepless nights had passed since their last conversation, and it was gnawing away inside Keith. Dark lines were smeared under his eyes, the marks of restlessness. Hopelessness, perhaps. He _needed to know._

“I’m sorry, Shiro. I didn’t want to ask but I - I have to know what’s going on please, just _talk_ to me, I-”

_I’m right here._

“-Keith, stop.”

The underlying wave of panic and hysteria to his voice cut Keith off immediately. Despite his concerns, despite _everything,_ this was still Shiro’s voice. Shiro. Maybe he was wrong. Maybe he'd pushed too far and hurt the one person he was trying to save. This felt terrifyingly permanent. He’d always believed in cementing an action, committing to it. No takebacks. Shiro was something he’d never takeback, never _want_ to takeback. _As much as you trust me._ Waiting in anticipation for the next words, Keith sucked in a shaky breath.

“I spoke to Allura,” Pause. “about the knife.”

 _Oh._ Silence broke between them. Unfamiliar and awkward. It wasn’t the kind they’d bask in on the roof of the garrison watching stars, it was constricting. Galaxies weren’t dangling over their heads, there was no promise of bright twinkling futures with adventures. Only a jarring silence. The kind Keith sustained with strangers, when there was nothing left to say.

A smile traced Shiro’s lips. It was poignant; defensively bitter as opposed to disarming.

“There wasn’t ever a trip, was there?”

It sounded less like a question, more like an accusation. One Keith couldn’t deflect or ignore. Because it was true. And despite wanting to avert his gaze, detach himself from _whatever this was,_ Keith didn’t. He owed them both that much. To be firm. Not brave, no. Nothing about this was brave. Just firm. Unwavering rock. Somehow not yet molten in the sheer intensity of a volcanic upheaval. Magma bubbled in his chest. Vicious; hot. A plume of shame engulfed him. And it was only a matter of time until a caldera formed, right where his aching heart was fracturing.  

“No.”

Bowing his head, perhaps in shame of his own or shame _for Keith,_ Shiro laughed. It was worse than the smile. Dejected and hollow. Hollow in the way that gave shadows their presence, gave emptiness a weight. Shiro shackled himself to it. They both had. Just not together.

“I’ve seen the way you look at me,” Shiro finally admitted.

Eyes wide, Keith stumbled over words he couldn't make. Choking on smoke that wasn’t there, suffocating on the gravity of what Shiro was really saying. He had to talk. _Damn this._ He needed to. But he couldn’t. Before he had any chance at piecing a coherent sentence together, Shiro continued.

“It's not the same. Something's changed and I don't think it's you. So it has to be me there's-” Conviction unravelling, Shiro clutched the bedframe tightly. “Keith, I think there's something wrong I think - what if they _did something_ to me when I escaped?”

Tremors tore through him, a hand clasping a fistful of hair. Eyes were distant. So far away. Shiro was so far away. Breath staggered. Then abruptly he became eerily still, staring blankly ahead. Shiro was slipping into a different place. If Keith didn't act fast he might not be able to pull him back. Stepping closer with caution yet insistence, Keith crouched down. _What happened what’s happened to us-_

“Shiro. Can you hear me?”

Shiro's jaw moved mechanically, as if trying to figure out how to talk.

“You don't have to speak,” Keith quickly added. “Just - nod if you can hear me, okay?”

Seconds passed in terrifying quiet. Laboured breaths. A small keening sound that was torn from Keith. Then slowly, Shiro nodded. It was a near imperceptible gesture, but Keith had grown accustomed to reading Shiro with fluency. That was partly why the mere _thought_ of Shiro’s words being the truth unnerved him. Battling with the notion of it himself was one thing. Hearing it out loud was another.

“Okay.” Hitching a breath, Keith pressed his eyes shut. _Patience yields focus._ He could do this. He had to. Shiro was counting on him, relying on him to steer them through this fight. A different kind, but still a fight. Just about the only one they were fighting together. 

“Good.” Pause. “Do you know where you are?”

Another nod. That was also good. Wherever Shiro had taken himself he was aware enough to hear Keith’s voice and understand his surroundings.

“Do you know who I am?”

Nod.

Pursing his lips, Keith chased Shiro’s eyes desperately. _I’m here. I’m here Shiro._

“...Do you know who you are?”

Suddenly the stillness shattered. Something akin to a broken sob splintered the silence. It sliced sharply through Keith. Curling in on himself, Shiro turned whilst dry heaving into his hand. The human one. His Galra hand was still gripping the bed sheets. Well. What remained of it at least, it was crumpled into his fist.

Shiro couldn't answer the question. And the worst part was, neither could Keith. It was sickening, _horrifying._ Wrong. Nothing about this was okay or easy to deal with. For either of them. Keith couldn’t begin to _imagine_ how Shiro must be feeling. And that was when the terrifying notion smeared over his skin and etched itself into bloodstream. Shiro was in distress. Shiro wasn’t sure of what was real and what wasn’t. He didn’t know _who he was._ Keith had started this.

Maybe he’d _caused_ this.

Standing urgently, Keith inched closer.

“I- I’m sorry I lied about the trip.” No, _no_ don't do this now. Not now. _Stop._ It wasn’t about that it was so much more so much _bigger_ so much **too much** \- “I needed to figure this out and it probably wasn't the best way. But I _had_ to know if-”

“-If what, Keith?” Shiro was speaking again, that was good. The cutting tone to the words wasn’t good, however. “If I was losing myself all over again? If I had been _tampered with_ -”

“-That’s _not_ what I-”

The words tripped over Keith’s burning tongue, spiralling out without reserve or control. He should be staying calm and level-headed but _god_ the fear was pressing into him. Thick enough to smother his lungs and twist deep inside him. _What if he’d driven Shiro to this._ What if this was his fault. Once that thought had latched onto him he couldn’t shake it. It gnawed deeper into his bones, chewing away at rational thought and reason. All this suffering and pain, dissociation.

 _Come on._ Be a good leader, be the person Shiro believed in. Be the person Shiro needed right now.

Blinking rapidly, hard enough to sting and scrunch his face into a contortion that resembled some of the distress he was feeling, Keith steeled himself. _Come on, come on, come on._ He was dangling precariously on the edge of his own composure. The drop was far. One he would have to manoeuvre his way out of fast. And if he fell, if he _let_ himself, it wouldn't just be his oblivion in the making. That made the stakes higher. Under no circumstances could he let Shiro fall.

“So we know there's recent stuff you can't remember,” he began succinctly, arms folded and eyes cast away. Big stuff. _Keith being Galra_ kind of stuff. “But that's understandable, Shiro. You've been through a lot-”

“-This isn't just on you, Keith.” For the first time since Keith walked in, Shiro’s voice was completely steady. Collected. Convincing. Yet the words weren't reassuring. _Just_ like all the words that had come before, there was something in them that skewed the balance. _Just._ That implied it partly was. _It was on him, it was on Keith._ Panic nestled in between his ribs.

“The fact I couldn't remember something like you being Galra has to mean I’m missing other memories. _Damn it!”_

Slamming his fist down on the bed, Shiro’s eyes hardened. The thud was softened by the bed, but Keith felt it rattling his bones. Ribbons of shredded fabric billowed between them from the force. Black and white. Something this situation wasn't.

Keith was stunned into a fretful self-contained kind of quiet, on the verge of bursting explosively. He sensed Shiro wasn't finished yet. He had to hold it together. Listen. _Accept._ Be _better,_ do better. Abruptly, Shiro lay back on the bed, body seemingly pushed too far in exertion.

“I have to remember.” Voice hushed, he met Keith’s eyes. Vacant. _Exhausted._ Shiro was so exhausted, so tired. He was _worn_ and weathered down by the waves of Keith’s persistence. _This isn’t just on you._ Just. _Just._ “But I can't. I'm sorry.”

“No. This isn't on you.” Unlike Shiro, he omitted the _just._ Shiro had nothing to feel sorry about. Expression softening, Keith uncrossed his arms. In desperation, he moved back over to sit on the corner of the bed. This wasn't something anyone could control. Shiro placing guilt upon himself wasn't okay. It was clearly taking a huge toll on him.

“Whatever's going on here we’ll figure it out,” Keith reached for Shiro. Fingertips ghosted over a shoulder before Shiro rolled a little closer, acknowledgement it was okay.

“What matters right now is that you're back with us.” _With me._ It didn’t need to be said. Or maybe it did. Keith wasn’t sure. Everything was unravelling around him. The words were fragile and handled tentatively. Sincere, but laced with an undercoat of apprehension not usually present. Highly flammable too. It took every ounce of self-discipline to suppress the fire blazing inside, keep it at bay and _away_ from these words. He honestly wasn’t sure if he succeeded. Shiro said nothing.

That either meant _nothing,_ or it meant everything.

Gazing over to the tray of half-eaten food and drink, Keith frowned. Regathering strength was important. He’d have to go and restock. Picking up the cup, he held it out to Shiro.

“Here.”

When Shiro made an attempt to reach with a trembling hand, he pulled the cup back out of reach. Raising an eyebrow expectantly, Keith waited patiently.

A laugh slipped from Shiro’s lips. It was caught awkwardly between morbid amusement and something bleak. With a small groan, he pushed himself to sit up a little.

“We never said it.”

“Hm?” Keith hummed absently, cup gently pushed to Shiro’s lips. Shiro took a few sips, slumping back down when Keith drew back.

“You never said it,” he repeated a beat later.

“Said what?” Keith asked curiously but gently. The weak condition of Shiro concerned him. He wanted to ensure Shiro rested. If conversation was too much, _even if initiated by him,_ Keith would give him an out at every opportunity. Pushing the sweat-soaked hair away from Shiro’s forehead, he listened to the hushed words.

“That it was good to have me back.”

 _Oh._ Mustering a smile, Keith bit back his own unsteady laugh.

“It's good to have to you back.”

“Is it?”

Like being doused in icy water, Keith’s hand jolted back. The prosthetic came up fast, faster than expected. Metallic fingers curled gently around his wrist. No motion, just a touch. Keith tugged away a little, lips pursed. Shiro tugged too. But he tugged closer. Despite the rift, despite it all, he did that. The gesture was subtle but Keith _felt it._ God he felt it. And it had Keith insistently following. He’d follow Shiro, of course he would. He trusted him. _As much as you trust me._ Fingertips shakily pressed against Shiro’s face, pushing back more hairs from his forehead. _I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I-_ try again. Be better. Do better.

“-Shiro,” The start of the name didn’t sound. Try again. Be better. Do better. “Shiro, it’s good to have you back.”

The addition of the name had something flash in Shiro’s eyes. It was the right choice. Eyes struggling to remain open, he returned the earnest smile. It was warm. But it was also difficult to look at directly. The lines etched into it were heavy, the sheer _fatigue_ palpably oozing out from every inch of Shiro.

“Good to… be back,” he managed softly, eyes closing.

Keith remained at the edge of the bed, until he was certain this sleep would be restful and undisturbed. They had enough problems to deal with whilst being awake. As the snoring sounded, Keith stifled a fond laugh. It was marred by things he couldn’t quite shake. Not yet. But it was the happiest sound either of them had made in the room. 

He crept out the room as quietly as possible, casting a final look back. They’d get through this. He'd stood here not long ago, making a pledge that cemented just that. It was one he was going to keep. _Whatever it takes._ No matter what. _As much as you trust me._ In a soft yet determined murmur, he spoke. 

“As many times as it takes.”

\---

**III. To every action there is always opposed an equal reaction: or the mutual actions of two bodies upon each other are always equal, and directed to contrary parts.**

\--

“Sir, stage four of project Kuron complete. Subject seems to be fully integrated with success as fugitive prisoner 117-9875.”

**Author's Note:**

> Bold text is cited from Netwon's Law Of Motion.


End file.
